Barlow. Maybe it's in this other portfolio.
Yardsley (joining them). Yes, maybe it is. That's a good idea. If
it isn't in one portfolio maybe it's in another. Clever thought! I
may be bright, Miss Andrews, but you must have observed that Barlow
is thoughtful.
Dorothy (with a glance at Barlow). Yes, Mr. Yardsley, I have noticed
the latter.
Barlow. Tee-hee! that's one on you, Bob.
Yardsley (obtuse). Ha, ha! Yes. Why, of course! Ha, ha, ha! For
repartee I have always said-polite repartee, of course--Miss Andrews
is--(Aside.) Now what the dickens did she mean by that?
Dorothy. I can't find it here. Let--me think. Where--can--it--be?
Barlow (striking thoughtful attitude). Yes, where can it be? Let me
do your thinking for you, Miss Dorothy. (Then softly to her.)
Always!
Yardsley (mocking Barlow). Yes! Let _me_ think! (Points his finger
at his forehead and assumes tragic attitude. Then stalks to the
front of stage in manner of burlesque Hamlet.) Come, thought, come.
Shed the glory of thy greatness full on me, and thus confound mine
enemies. Where the deuce is that Gibson?
Dorothy. Oh, I remember. It's up-stairs. I took it up with me last
night. I'll ring for Jennie, and have her get it.
Yardsley (aside, and in consternation). Jennie! Oh, thunder! I'd
forgotten her. I do hope she remembers not to forget herself.
Barlow. What say?
Yardsley. Nothing; only--ah--only that I thought it was very--very
pleasant out.
Barlow. That's what you said before.
Yardsley (indignantly). Well, what of it? It's the truth. If you
don't believe it, go outside and see for yourself.
[Jennie appears at the door in response to Dorothy's ring. She
glances demurely at Yardsley, who tries to ignore her presence.
Dorothy. Jennie, go up to my room and look on the table in the
corner, and bring me down the portfolio you will find there. The
large brown one that belongs in the stand over there.
Jennie (dazed). Yessum. And shall I be bringin' lemons with it?
Dorothy. Lemons, Jennie?
Jennie. You always does have lemons with your tea, mum.
Dorothy. I didn't mention tea. I want you to get my portfolio from
up-stairs. It is on the table in the corner of my room.
[Looks at Jennie in surprise.
Jennie. Oh, excuse me, mum. I didn't hear straight.
[She casts a languishing glance at Yardsley and disappears.
Yardsley (noting the glance, presumably aside). Confound that
Jennie!
Barlow (overhearing Yardsley). What's that? Confound that Jennie?
Why say confound that Jennie? Why do you wish Jennie to be
confounded?
Yardsley (nervously). I didn't say that. I--ah--I merely said that--
that Jennie appeared to be--ah--confounded.
Dorothy. She certainly is confused. I cannot understand it at all.
Ordinarily I have rather envied Jennie her composure.
Yardsley. Oh, I suppose--it's--it's--it's natural for a young girl--
a servant--sometimes to lose her--equipoise, as it were, on
occasions. If we lose ours at times, why not Jennie? Eh? Huh?
Barlow. Certainly.
Yardsley. Of course--ha--trained servants are hard to get these
days, anyhow. Educated people--ah--go into other professions, such
as law, and--ah--the ministry--and--
Dorothy. Well, never mind. Let's talk of something more interesting
than Jennie. Going to the Chrysanthemum Show, Mr. Barlow?
Barlow. I am; wouldn't miss it for the world. Do you know, really
now, the chrysanthemum, in my opinion, is the most human-looking
flower we have. The rose is too beautiful, too perfect, for me. The
chrysanthemum, on the other hand--
Yardsley (interrupting). Looks so like a football-player's head it
appeals to your sympathies? Well, perhaps you are right. I never
thought of it in that light before, but--
Dorothy (smiling). Nor I; but now that you mention it, it does look
that way, doesn't it?
Barlow (not wishing to disagree with Dorothy). Very much. Droll
idea, though. Just like Bob, eh? Very, very droll. Bob's always
dro--
Yardsley (interrupting). When I see a man walking down the Avenue
with a chrysanthemum in his button-hole, I always think of a wild
Indian wearing a scalp for decorative purposes.
[Barlow and Dorothy laugh at this, and during their mirth Jennie
enters with the portfolio. She hands it to Dorothy. Dorothy rests
it on the arm of her chair, and Barlow looking over one shoulder, she
goes through it. Jennie in passing out throws another kiss to
Yardsley.
Yardsley (under his breath, stamping his foot). Awgh!
Barlow. What say?
[Dorothy looks up, surprised.
Yardsley. I--I didn't say anything. My--ah--my shoe had a piece of--
ah--
Barlow. Oh, say lint, and be done with it.
Yardsley (relieved, and thankful for the suggestion). Why, how did
you know? It did, you know. Had a piece of lint on it, and I tried
to get it off by stamping, that's all.
Dorothy. Ah, here it is.
Yardsley. What? The lint?
Barlow. Ho! Is the world nothing but lint to you? Of course not--
the Gibson. Charming, isn't it, Miss Dorothy?
Dorothy (holding the picture up). Fine. Just look at that girl.
Isn't she pretty?
Barlow. Very.
Dorothy. And such style, too.
Yardsley (looking over Dorothy's other shoulder). Yes, very pretty,
and lots of style. (Softly.) Very--like some one--some one I know.
Barlow (overhearing). I think so myself, Yardsley. It's exactly
like Josie Wilkins. By-the-way--ah--how is that little affair coming
along, Bob?
Dorothy (interested). What! You don't mean to say--Why, _Mister_
Yardsley!
Yardsley (with a venomous glance at Barlow). Nonsense. Nothing in
it. Mere invention of Barlow's. He's a regular Edison in his own
way.
[Dorothy looks inquiringly at Barlow.
Barlow (to Yardsley). Oh, don't be so sly about it, old fellow!
_Every_body knows.
Yardsley. But I tell you there's nothing in it. I--I have different
ideas entirely, and you--you know it--or, if you don't, you will
shortly.
Dorothy. Oh! Then it's some one else, Mr. Yardsley? Well, now I
_am_ interested'. Let's have a little confidential talk together.
Tell _us_, Mr. Yardsley, tell Mr. Barlow and me, and maybe--I can't
say for certain, of course--but maybe we can help you.
Barlow (gleefully rubbing his hands). Yes, old man; certainly.
Maybe we--we can help you.
Yardsley (desperately). You can help me, both of you--but--but I
can't very well tell you how.
Barlow. I'm willing to do all I can for you, my dear Bob. If you
will only tell us her name I'll even go so far as to call, in your
behalf, and propose for you.
Yardsley. Oh, thanks. You are very kind.
Dorothy. I think so too, Mr. Barlow. You are almost too kind, it
seems to me.
Yardsley. Oh no; not too kind, Miss Andrews. Barlow simply realizes
that one who has proposed marriage to young girls as frequently as he
has knows how the thing is done, and he wishes to give me the benefit
of his experience. (Aside.) That's a facer for Barlow.
Barlow. Ha, ha, ha! Another joke, I suppose. You see, my dear Bob,
that I am duly appreciative. I laugh. Ha, ha, ha! But I must say I
laugh with some uncertainty. I don't know whether you intended that
for a joke or for a staggerer. You should provide your conversation
with a series of printed instructions for the listener. Get a lot of
cards, and have printed on one, "Please laugh"; on another, "Please
stagger"; on another, "Kindly appear confused." Then when you mean
to be jocose hand over the laughter card, and so on. Shall I
stagger?
Dorothy. I think that Mr. Yardsley meant that for a joke. Didn't
you, Mr. Yardsley?
Yardsley. Why, certainly. Of course. I don't really believe Barlow
ever had sand enough to propose to any one. Did you, Jack?
Barlow (indignant). Well, I rather think I have.
Dorothy. Ho, ho! Then you _are_ an experienced proposer, Mr.
Barlow?
Barlow (confused). Why--er--well--um--I didn't exactly mean that,
you know. I meant that--ah--if it ever came to the--er--the test, I
think I could--I'd have sand enough, as Yardsley puts it, to do the
thing properly, and without making a--ah--a Yardsley of myself.
Yardsley (bristling up). Now what do you mean by that?
Dorothy. I think you are both of you horrid this afternoon. You are
so quarrelsome. Do you two always quarrel, or is this merely a
little afternoon's diversion got up for my especial benefit?
Barlow (with dignity). I never quarrel.
Yardsley. Nor I. I simply differ sometimes, that's all. I never
had an unpleasant word with Jack in my life. Did I, Jack?
Barlow. Never. I always avoid a fracas, however great the
provocation.
Dorothy (desperately). Then let us have a cup of tea together and be
more sociable. I have always noticed that tea promotes sociability--
haven't you, Mr. Yardsley?
Yardsley. Always. (Aside.) Among women.
Barlow. What say?
[Dorothy rises and rings the bell for Jennie.
Yardsley. I say that I am very fond of tea.
Barlow. So am I--here. [Rises and looks at pictures. Yardsley
meanwhile sits in moody silence.
Dorothy (returning). You seem to have something on your mind, Mr.
Yardsley. I never knew you to be so solemn before.